if a lot of people loved each other,

[Monobindi]

da world would be a bettah place.

Yes see clearly, I take everything on this site so seriously. BUT YEAH. Here's where I'm gonna be throwing all the little pieces I write - you know. Whenever I actually get motivated to do so.


First up is part two in a little collaboration between Jemi, Storm, and I - an AU in which Mithos loses everything he loves. We're such wonderful people :].

You can read part one here in Jemi's writing thread.

And also this ramble-y and overall a very...odd piece, for a death scene, I think. But I thought it was appropriate, all things considered. Enjoy :]




Redemption was a funny thing. You could spend your entire life trying to right your own wrongs, to earn the forgiveness of the people who mattered. And in the end, it didn’t always amount to very much. There would always be wounds you couldn’t heal. There would always be people who wouldn’t forgive. And there were days - when the people of Storybrooke glared as she passed them on the streets, and Snow and Charming always looked to her first whenever something went wrong, and Emma still occasionally treated her like a dangerous sociopath who might have some intention of hurting their son – when it felt as if nothing had really changed at all.

But it had, hadn’t it? Perhaps the victims of the curse would never see her as anything more than the Evil Queen, but she’d learned that some of the people in the world beyond Storybrooke were perhaps worthy of her trust.

There’d been Oswin, who hadn’t once budged through all of Regina’s dysfunction and suspicion. Who’d been so patient as Regina had stumbled her way into learning how to actually be someone’s friend – who’d even learned a few things along with her. Oswin taught Regina – or perhaps reminded, her, rather – that opening yourself up to another person without getting hurt was, indeed, possible. That was the most important thing she’d learned. Out of all the things they’d taught each other, the most important one she’d learned from Oswin came in the form of the simplicity the younger woman practiced every day in going right up to people and smiling and saying hello and disregarding the risk that anyone could betray you, if you let them get close enough: courage.

Oswin had died doing what she’d always done: saving the world or the people she cared about with that Doctor of hers, in their little blue time traveling box. Regina had been selfish. She’d been angry. She’d hated the fact that Oswin had given up her life, had left her, had left all of them.

She'd hated herself for not being there to stop it.

But she’d never forgotten how Oswin had changed her. Just as she’d never forget Oswin herself, the girl who was strong enough to cling to who she was through a Dalek conversion – and then shake death itself off, pulling herself together and pursuing a new life, ready to take on the world.

And then there was Mithos. Sometimes, Regina looked back on what their relationship had initially been, and almost had to laugh, wondering how they’d ever sorted out their differences without killing each other.

But then, that was just it. They really weren’t so different at all. They’d both been well-intentioned, innocent, genuinely good people once – and they’d both been darkened by the loss of someone they loved, and the ugly hatred that had spawned from that loss. They’d both done horrible, horrible things, and had all but lost themselves in the process. ..And then, ultimately, they had healed together, Regina supposed. Even after his betrayal, Regina had continued to believe that Mithos could change because a part of her had wanted to believe that she could change. She saw so much of herself in him – the anger and hatred, the grief and loss, the loneliness. There’d been a time when Regina had been hell-bent on forcing others to share her misery, but looking at Mithos and seeing what his sadness and hatred had done to him, she could only remember thinking that no one should have to suffer the way the two of them had.

And yet, even since she’d helped him, it didn’t seem that his suffering had really ceased. There’d been so much loss lately – and now this. They’d been through so much together, and now she was slipping away…and it felt a little like she’d failed him. She could only hope that without her, without Oswin, without Kazuma…he’d be alright. …And he would be. He was strong. He’d allowed his grief to get to him before, with Martel, but things had changed…hadn’t they?

She didn’t want to think about the unbearable possibility that they hadn’t. Not when there was so little time for thinking about anything left.

So in the end, perhaps she really hadn’t found redemption. But the people in her life – Oswin, Mithos, and even several others after them…they’d helped her. Slowly but surely, Regina had started hurting and hating a little less. Everything had been cold and dark before, but now she could feel the ice beginning to melt away. And maybe that was as close to redemption as she needed to be.

She had, after all, earned the forgiveness of the one person she truly wanted it from. She’d adopted Henry eleven years prior, and in turn, he had given her a new reason to live. A reason better than a grudge she couldn’t let go of, or a past that still haunted her. In the end, it had been Henry who had truly saved her, who had made her want to change in the first place. All of this – it hadn’t exactly been easy, but every smile he’d given her, every time he slipped his little hand into hers, every time he called her ‘Mom’ – that alone had made it all worth it.

And perhaps most of her life wasn’t something she could look back on with any fondness or pride, but the years she’d spent raising Henry? His first words, his first steps, all the crafts he’d brought home from school and the notes she’d snuck into his lunchboxes and the many, many times she’d cheered him on when he’d succeeded and reassured him when he faltered, the tears and laughter, the happiness and the hurt? Knowing that this, that he was the outcome of everything she endured, well…she didn’t really regret any of it.

And maybe that made any real ‘redemption’ impossible. That lack of regret.
Then again, she reflected wryly, the fact that she’d just given her life while fighting off her own mother in order to buy the Charmings – or Henry, Emma, and the Two Idiots, as she so affectionately referred to them – enough time to escape just might have won her some points.

She would have liked to hear Snow’s thoughts on the matter, since her stepdaughter had, ironically, always been the one who’d so vehemently insisted that Regina was capable of changing. She’d never understood that girl’s stubbornness – Regina had quite literally done everything in her power to make her stepdaughter’s life a living hell, and yet Snow hadn’t stopped believing in her – not until Regina had all but forced her to, after her near-execution.

Maybe now her actions had restored a little of that faith. Not that Regina cared (or at least, she didn’t want to). And not that laying here dying alone gave her any real opportunity to ask.

She wondered how long it would take for the curse her mother had hit her with to finally finish her off. The fight had been a brutal one – Cora’s lifeless body now lay several meters away; the death blow Regina had managed to land had made things quick. But whatever Cora’d hit her with was going to take a little longer. It hurt – too much to move very much – but there wasn’t much blood. If she’d correctly recognized the curse she’d been hit with, the bleeding was internal. Not a particularly pleasant way to go – but in the end, she supposed, Regina had always known that it would come down to this - some sort of final confrontation with her mother. It had hurt more than she’d expected it to, the realization that neither of them were going to come out of this alive. That Cora was really so far gone that they couldn’t resolve everything that had happened between them. She still couldn’t help but feel that maybe there was something she could have done to repair their relationship, that if she could have just been good enough…things might have been different.

A part of Regina knew how irrational those thoughts were, and another part of her knew just as surely that there were some things you could not rationalize. The knowledge that your mother did not – could not – love you was one of them.

But now Cora was gone, and Henry and the rest of his family were safe. Everyone in Storybrooke, they were all safe from the woman who would stop at nothing to force her daughter and herself into power. And very shortly, she herself would be gone as well.

That was the thing about sacrifices. Sometimes, no one was ever there to see them. Sometimes, they were never really acknowledged. Did that make them matter any less?

She…couldn’t say that she knew, now. Regina thought it would feel better, to know that she’d died fighting for the right side. To know how selfless her sacrifice had been, and that it was all over now. She had thought knowing these things would give her enough strength to accept her fate in some sort of calm, dignified manner.

She’d been wrong.

As Regina Mills lay in the empty Storybrooke street, breathing her last several breaths, her body shook slightly as she cried. She cried for her best friend, whose life she hadn’t been able to save despite her promises to protect her. For the four-thousand year old angel who at times still wasn’t much more than a twelve year old, who’d lost just about everything now. For the hatter she thought she might have loved, though neither of them had been given enough time to explore their feelings. For the little girl she’d pulled off that horse all those years ago, who’d grown up to be her most bitter enemy. For the son who she owed everything to, who made her life worth living. For the mother she’d tried so hard to reach, until it had cost them both their lives.

And then, even as the pain began to ebb away into numbness and everything started to fade, Regina cried for herself. She’d come so far, but she was more alone now than she’d ever been.

[Monobindi]

Okay so since The Miller's Daughter just...went ahead and broke all of our feels, guess what you get? A Cora character study.

Idk how I feel about this one yet - I'm kiiinda worried I didn't get her quite right, but. I'M SHARING WITH YOU PEOPLE ANYWAY BECAUSE I'M TOO INSECURE TO POST IT ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT GETTING FEEDBACK FIRST.





It didn’t hurt the way she thought it would.

And it should have. She remembered thinking, I just tore my own heart out of my body. It should hurt more. It took her several moments to realize that the physical pain was, indeed, there – a dull, empty sort of throb – it simply paled in comparison to the pain that had been clenching and clawing at her since the moment she’d made the decision to give up the man she loved.
The grief, sadness, regret, uncertainty. That was the pain she was suddenly missing.

It should hurt more, had been her first realization. Then came the second, stronger one. It’ll never hurt again.

Nothing ever would, and that was why Cora knew she’d made the right decision. Where others hesitated, hindered by their suffering or doubt or compassion, she would relentlessly move forward with enough swiftness and certainty to ensure that anything she wanted would be hers. She was strong, now. She’d never allow anyone to ever make her weak again.

It all worked out rather well. If she’d still had her heart, it might have shattered when she saw the way Rumplestiltskin looked at her as he realized what she’d done. But she didn’t, and it hadn’t. She hadn’t even felt much more than a twinge of skepticism when she saw her baby girl for the first time. She was so tiny. So fragile. And Cora was suddenly seized with a jolt of impatience, the desire to see her daughter grow up and be strong right then.

She’d named her baby Regina – a fitting name. One day, she would be queen – Cora would make certain of that – and she would inherit her power without having to claw her way to the top, without having people ever look down on her or treat her like scum on the bottom of their shoes. Regina would have the life Cora herself had never gotten.

But when she tried to reach beyond this ambition, towards the love and tenderness that every mother should feel for their newborn child, all she found was emptiness. It was the first time the gravity of what she’d done weighed in on her – the first time her inability to love very nearly frightened her – so she’d convinced herself that she loved her daughter anyway.

She could appreciate the irony of the fact that the loathing she felt when Princess Eva married Prince Leopold and stole the throne from her seemed more real than the love she felt for Regina, or the remorse she felt for Rumplestiltskin. Could one still hate without their heart? Perhaps that was just it – perhaps that was all they could do. And since dark magic stemmed from anger and hatred and bloodlust, since that was exactly what Rumple had taught her to tap into, she supposed it made sense that being heartless would help her become one of the most powerful magic users the Enchanted Forest had ever seen.

-

“Mother,” Regina began one day – she’d recently turned sixteen, and sometimes this newfound formalness managed to startle Cora. She’d most typically been ‘Mama’, up until then – but, she told herself, she could hardly disapprove of her daughter maturing. The more quickly, the better.

“Yes, darling?” Cora indulged her, though most of her attention remained focused on trying to fix her daughter’s long, wavy (and oftentimes unruly) hair into a style that was somewhat presentable.

There was silence for a moment. “When did you know you were in love with Daddy?” Yes – Henry was still ‘Daddy’, and not ‘Father’ – Cora would always note this with something vaguely akin to bitterness. She paused upon hearing that. What an odd thing for the girl to ask – it came right out of nowhere, and Cora had to wonder if…perhaps…

She glanced up to meet Regina’s wide, curious eyes in the mirror. A false smile twitched at Cora’s lips. “Why do you ask?”

Regina bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, I guess what I want to know isn’t when.” She amended after a moment. “…How? How did you know?”

Cora paused a moment to clip back the stray hair that now hung in Regina’s face. “I don’t love your father, Regina.” That seemed best – stating the truth as simply and bluntly as if she were explaining that the sky was blue and the grass was green. Regina was too old to be coddled. Too old for naivety.

She felt Regina stiffen in her chair, stunned by this revelation. “But…but then why did you marry him? If you don’t love each other?” she asked quietly.

“Marriage is not about love, except in the case of the few unfortunate souls who have nothing else to offer one another.” Cora explained patiently. “Marriage is strategic. For the man, it is a way to further his bloodline. The promise of children ensures that his legacy continues.”

Regina gave her a rather dubious look. This was not the young girl who’d been perfectly content to eat up every word her mother fed her. “…And for the woman?”

“For the woman, it could be about a number of things. Wealth, status, power…or a combination of the three.”

“Couldn’t a woman get those things on her own, if she wanted to?” Regina squirmed a little in her seat.

Cora emitted a low laugh. “Oh, darling. You’re far too sheltered.” She rested her hands lightly on her daughter’s shoulders. “Women like you and I, we are worthy of all of those things. The difference between us and men, is that we have to fight for all of them. There’s no room for silly fantasies such as love.”

“What’s the point of fighting for something that won’t make me happy?” The uncertainty was turning into something dangerously akin to defiance. Regina frowned for a moment, and then lowered her gaze. “I think love would make me happy.” she continued more quietly.

Oh – now who had been putting silly thoughts like these into her head? Cora would not allow any of her suspicions to show – not yet – but already, she decided she would most certainly be looking into this. “People who think that way spend their entire lives bowing to those who would look down on them. All for the sake of love.” She would never allow that to happen again; not to her, and certainly not to her daughter. “When you marry, Regina, it will be for the right reasons.” A moment of feigned hesitation – and then she leaned a little closer. “Unless…there is someone already?”

“No,” Regina responded, all too quickly. “No, Mother. …I’m sorry. I just wanted to know.”

Cora gave a tiny nod and said nothing more. The answer Regina had given her, not with her words, but with her eyes, told her more than enough.

-

It had only taken the confession of an empty-headed, all-too-trusting little girl (Eva’s child – oh how she longed to strangle the little brat then and there) for her to learn the truth about her daughter and that lowly stablehand she’d been sneaking off with.

Later, when the boy lay dead in Regina’s arms, Cora watched her cry and plead and realized that this was the pain she had saved herself from. Love was so fleeting, so uncertain, in comparison to power. How could it end in anything but tears?

She could have taken Regina’s heart, could have watched her love for the boy fade away just like that. But in the end, she’d decided that experience was the most harsh and effective teacher.

“You’ve ruined everything.” her daughter hissed out through her tears. “I loved him!”

“Enough!” Had she learned nothing? Cora grabbed her roughly by the arms and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve endured this long enough. Now clean yourself up. Wipe away your tears. Because now? You’re going to be Queen.”

-

What she found, all those years later, when she and Hook sailed into the strange land known as ‘Storybrooke’…well, it only proved to her that she’d been right. There’d never been any need to take Regina’s heart – she’d learned her lesson on her own. She was no longer foolish enough to believe in silly things like the goodness of others, or that love would endure above all else in the end.

At least, that was what Cora saw when she first came face to face with her daughter once more.

When her heart was shoved back into her body and she turned to find that Regina was the culprit, however, she saw so much more.

She saw a woman who’d endured all the tragedy she’d been through. Who, through all her suffering, had allowed a faint flicker of light to remain. Who loved her own child with a mother’s devotion and ferocity that Cora herself had never experienced.

It was as if she was seeing her daughter, her beautiful, brave daughter, for the very first time – and the sudden, intense wave of love and pride might have been enough to make her legs give out…if the curse hadn’t gotten there first.

The sharp, almost numbing pain spread through her quickly. As Regina held her close, tears in her eyes, Cora looked up at her and affirmed with a look what they both most likely already knew: she was dying.

What hurt, even more than the curse coursing through her blood with every beat of her heart, was the knowledge that she’d missed so much. That she’d given up raising a child, being a mother, loving her baby girl – all for some empty illusion of power that seemed so insignificant now. She remembered that day, after Regina had been born, when she'd been so impatient for her child to grow up. Now all she wanted was to go back and savor every moment she'd taken for granted.

“This would have been enough,” she whispered. “You would have been enough.”

It was the truth, and she used her last remaining breaths to verbalize it even though every word hurt. For once, Cora welcomed the pain.

[Sarafine Duchannes]

ohai muse outlet, ha ha ha.

So I decided to do a series of short stories - encounters with people in Sarafine's life who were important to her, before and after she went completely Dark, and the impact they had on her. I like writing things like this or headcanon quizzes for her, since even at her most Light she doesn't...emote with too much real honesty. So this is the best way to get into her head and explore how she really feels about the people who have had an important effect on her.

as you might have guessed I am most comfortable writing her canon-mates, hahaha. BUT, if you want to request something from AM!Canon? Go right ahead and I'll cower in terror and then try my best!

So far I'm planning one-shots with:

• Emmaline
  
• Abraham
  
• Delphine
  
• Lena
  
• Macon
  
• Ethan
  
• Clara
  
• Shio

[Sarafine Duchannes]

She’d needed pineapple.

That was the only thing Sarafine could really remember about that day. Her pregnancy cravings had been driving her insane, sending her (or more often than not these days, John in her place) frantically running to the store every other day. Today, she wanted pineapple. But John had been at work, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to disturb him or to make him head back out once he got home. So, seven months pregnant and extremely hormonal (a pregnant Natural was just about one of the most terrifying forces in the universe, John was convinced) , she’d all but waddled off to the farmer’s market.

She’d get the strangest of looks, whenever she wandered into town. Charleston, just like Gatlin, still knew her as Izabel – the ungodly Duchannes girl who didn’t even have the more friendly and outgoing social graces of her older sister, who’d dropped out of high school at sixteen years old, who was now married and pregnant. By their standards, she was nothing less than a pitiful failure. They didn’t understand, what had happened – they were Mortals, and Mortals never understood.

Sarafine managed to avoid their gazes as she scanned the produce section beneath her large, dark sunglasses. She almost never took them off, these days – she could hardly even stand to do so around her husband, who compassionately insisted that her eyes now brightened up a room, when she knew that they really sent a chill down his spine.

It was only by chance that she looked up and spotted a middle-aged, elegantly dressed woman examining the tomatoes. Sarafine felt as if her heart had just jumped straight up into her throat. She hadn’t seen the woman, her…her mother, in nearly two years. Instinctively, she drew back, as if hoping to remain inconspicuous among the brightly colored fruits behind her. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want Emmaline to even see her, didn’t want to acknowledge what could only be utter disappointment in her eyes.

Sarafine didn’t want to do any of those things, and yet, even as she watched Emmaline, a part of her longed to run over and embrace her, to bury her face in her mother’s shoulder and just cry, the way she used to do when something went wrong. She’d only been sixteen when Emmaline had thrown her out of the house. Sixteen was – it was too young for anyone to lose their mother. There were still so many ways a person needed to grow up, so many ways she herself had needed to, and still did. Sometimes – more often now than ever – Sarafine felt utterly lost without her mother’s guidance.

Her thoughts broke off abruptly, because Emmaline had glanced up just then – and their eyes locked. Sarafine saw her almost…hesitate, a fleeting flicker of uncertainty crossing her expression. And then she’d hardened again, became indifferent – and to Sarafine’s utter terror, began to approach.

“You’re with child.” It was a simple observation, but Emmaline’s tone stung. It was something between judgmental, and almost fearful. As if she didn’t trust Sarafine with her own baby.

Shifting slightly, Sarafine looked away. “Yes, mama. John and I are married now.” She explained quietly. They hadn’t even bothered to send the Duchannes family news of the wedding.

Emmaline paused, opened her mouth to speak – and then closed it again. She was more successful on the second attempt. “Delphine has two girls now. Annabel and Julia.”

She couldn’t help but feel a faint smile tug at her lips. Her sister Delphine, four years older than her, had been getting married around the time Sarafine’d gone away. It was one of her greatest regrets, missing that wedding – and not getting to see her two nieces now. “That’s great.” She gave a breathless little laugh. “Del’s gonna make a great mom – she’s so good with kids.”

Merely arching an eyebrow in response, Emmaline cleared her throat a little. There seemed to be something else she wanted to say, but again the words escaped her. Scrambling to fill the silence now, Sarafine softened her tone now. “…Baby’s due in February, if you want to…you know. If you want to come see her.”

Emmaline glanced sharply back at her at that, and Sarafine, who’d been resting a hand subconsciously on her stomach, stiffened. “I don’t think that would be best,” Emmaline replied, suddenly rather curt. “You – well, you are giving her up, after all. Aren’t you?”

A stunned silence followed her words. . Instantly, Sarafine could feel herself bristling, though what her mother had said hadn’t quite sunk in yet. “I –” She stopped, stammering. How could Emmaline even imagine, for one second, that she would abandon her daughter as easily as Emmaline had her? Straightening, she lifted her chin in defiance. “We aren’t. We’re raising her, me and John. No matter what she turns out to be.” Her daughter, would, of course, be Light. Sarafine would give anything to ensure it. But…but if that wasn’t the case…she wouldn’t be guilty of allowing this Curse to tear apart her family, not like the rest of them. If she could fight going Dark, anyone could.

But now it was Emmaline’s turn to bristle. “Don’t be foolish. My concern is not about her – it’s about you. You’re hardly fit to raise a child, not in this…state.” The way her eyes bore into Sarafine’s sunglasses, Sarafine felt as if she could see right through them. She shifted again.

“There’s nothing wrong with me – I already told you! I don’t feel different, I’m still me!” It wasn’t quite as true as it had been several years ago. Sarafine would be lying if she said she couldn’t feel the Darkness creeping up upon her, the violent urges increasing, her emotions beginning to deaden – but she could fight it. All of it. Why couldn’t her mother understand?

“That won’t be the case forever. You can’t change who you are – and you’ll only be able to fight it for so long.” A hint of bitterness edged Emmaline’s tone, as if she was speaking from experience that she herself had witnessed. But Sarafine was too angry to pay that any mind.

“You’re wrong, Mama. I love John, and I’ll love my daughter, no matter what. That’s what family does – they help each other fight things like this. They don’t…they don’t turn their backs the moment something goes wrong!” She was creating a bit of a scene now, and failing to stop the tears welling in her eyes from streaking silently down her cheeks, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. All the resentment, the hurt, the betrayal – it was all welling to the surface. All the things she’d wanted to say to her mother for so long were coming pouring out now. “You never called, or wrote to me – not once! I needed you, through all of this…I…I didn’t know what I was doing, and I needed my mom.”

Emmaline’s jaw clenched, as if she’d been struck. Sarafine was sure she saw genuine pain in her gaze, was sure that she’d finally reached her – and for a moment, she allowed herself to feel a brief flicker of hope through the anger. But then Emmaline spoke.

“I am no longer your mother.”

The words paralyzed Sarafine. She couldn't even flinch away, couldn't call out to stop Emmaline as she turned quickly on her heel and walked away – she could do nothing but stare with unblinking yellow eyes, waiting for the moment she'd finally wake up from...whatever nightmare this was.

It never came.